A Light Amidst the Dark
by Redclia
Summary: PG rating just for a little gore in Chapter 2. Now a collection of short fics featuring a certain tall, blond Elf --no not Legolas...it's Glorfindel, the "forgotten" Elf-lord and his stallion Asfaloth.
1. A Light Amidst the Dark

Author's Note: For those of you who haven't read the book(s) and only saw the movie, Glorfindel is one character who was cut out.  In the movie, Arwen saves Frodo; in the book, Glorfindel comes across Strider and etc., puts Frodo on his stallion and sends him off when the Riders come after him.  Frodo crosses the river and yells ineffectually at the Nine.  Elrond calls up the river waters and Gandalf gives the water the shape of horses and riders.  As he is passing out, Frodo sees a bright light on the other side of the river as well as some dark shapes with fire.  The light is Glorfindel and the shapes are Strider and the others who are holding torches.  

            I wish he had been put into the movie somehow because I really like the picture of him and Asfaloth running right before they meet up with Strider.  But Arwen/Liv Tyler did a wonderful job of rescuing Frodo.

A Final Author's Note: Please read and review this!  If you don't like it, say so politely.  Also, I'm thinking about maybe expanding it, or adding to it, or something.  If you have any ideas, tell me.

A Light Amidst the Dark 

Glorfindel, an Elven-lord of great power, was a sight to behold as he sped through Middle-earth astride the white Elf-horse, Asfaloth.  Asfaloth gleamed brightly in the night and Glorfindel, aptly named 'golden-haired,' seemed to almost become translucent in the moonlight.  Over the thick grass the stallion sped, his hooves making no sound.  The bells on his halter rang in the wind, but the sound carried no further than the Elf's ears.  Glorfindel rode hard and fast, sharp eyes peering into the night ahead.  As he broke out of the patch of trees into the open, the sound of heavy hoof beats thundered around him.  The Nine Nazgul had found him.

            He urged Asfaloth on, glancing quickly back at the Dark creatures behind him.  The Nazgul were not alone.  Two Orcs rode smaller horses, carrying bows, and looking uncomfortable in the saddle.  As the black horses of the Nazgul sped up, Asfaloth whinnied a challenge to them and lengthened his stride.  Try as they might, the dark steeds could not hem in the Elf-stallion and he broke ahead of them.

            "Elf-lord.  It is Sauron's will that you do not live to see daylight.  You will not make it to Rivendell." one of the Nazgul hissed, its voice hollow and dead.

            Glorfindel did not reply, only bent over Asfaloth's neck as the stallion's heavy hooves began to thud on the ground as they left the thick grass.  The nine horses of the Nazgul neighed angrily and tossed their heads.  Seemingly in response, the two Orcs drew their bows, black arrows pointed towards the Elf-lord and his horse.

            Their target looked back in time to see the Orcs aim, and turned Asfaloth to the side.  The arrows whistled past and Asfaloth pinned his ears back as one whizzed by close over his head.  More arrows came as a hidden group of horsed Orcs came out of the night, firing and screeching as they did.  Even Glorfindel's skill and Asfaloth's speed couldn't save them from the hail of arrows.  One buried itself deep into the stallion's flank and Asfaloth screamed.  He stumbled and fell, throwing Glorfindel from his back as he crashed into the ground.  The Elf hit the ground and rolled, drawing his sword as he stood up.

            The Orcs cut in front of the Nazgul, eager to finish the Elf and his horse off, but the Nazgul were faster and rode them down.  The Orcs' horses panicked as they felt the black steeds' breath on their haunches and bucked, throwing their riders in the path of the Nazgul's horses, who trampled them into the earth.  The Nazgul circled around Glorfindel, their harsh screeching filling the air.  Glorfindel raised his sword, whether in warning or challenge, he did not know.  The Nine replied in kind, drawing long swords from beneath their cloaks.

            "Your blood will stain this earth tonight, Elf." the leader of the Nazgul warned.  

            Glorfindel turned his glance on him.  His eyes were cold and fathomless, flashing with a hint of the power he contained.

            "If you touch either the horse or me, you will sorely regret it." he retorted calmly.

            Behind him, Asfaloth struggled to his hooves, the arrow still buried in his side.  He shook himself fiercely and the arrow shivered and fell free from him.  Glorfindel reclaimed his seat on the horse and turned him in a tight circle, so that he could watch the Nazgul.  

            Suddenly, the Nazgul tensed.  Their armor clinked as though they were getting ready to spring forward.  Asfaloth noticed this and reared, screaming a challenge to the Nazgul.  The Dark steeds tossed their heads, fighting their riders' control.  They wanted to fight the Elf-horse and they stamped their hooves impatiently, but the Nine held them in check.

            They tightened the circle slowly, until Asfaloth whirled and snapped his teeth at the horses when they came too close.  They backed off a step or two, taken aback by the stallion's fury.

            But the Nine pressed forward.  Their cold blades lifted slowly until they were held level with Glorfindel's neck.  They were sure of themselves, confident in their victory, and, like the Men they had once been, they savored this knowledge.  The Nine took their time, wanting to capture the moment of triumph in their minds and this was a human thing to do.  But Elves will not wait for the time of Men.

            Glorfindel threw his head back, and in his eyes kindled a fire that burned like ice.  He held his sword above his head and Asfaloth reared, neighing.  The Nine were unmoved and only moved closer.  Glorfindel shouted aloud to the heavens, his clear voice ringing with the Elven words.  A sudden burst of light seemed to spring from deep within him, surrounding him and Asfaloth with a bright glow of white.  The blades of the Nazgul were shattered, falling into dust.  The Riders dropped the hilts of their swords as if they burned them.  They paused, uncertain now, but still retaining the thought of victory.  

            Asfaloth stood on his hind legs, his mane and tail streaming, and his white coat seemed to be brighter than it had been before.  The Elf on his back was the same; his golden hair fell onto his back and was a pinprick of gold in the blinding white.  

            "Do you fear the wrath of an Elf-lord?" he shouted to the Nazgul.  They did not reply, for they were too busy trying to control their horses.  The steeds pranced anxiously, wary around the power of Glorfindel.  

            "We do not know fear." one of the Nazgul retorted.  

            At that, Glorfindel almost smiled.  In that instant, his true nature was known.  He was a First-Born, an Elf-lord.  He was young and old, wise with the knowledge of thousands of years and strong with the victory of a thousand battles.  Pride was in his face; pride without arrogance, and he embodied the ethereal grace and beauty of his people.

            "You will." he replied simply.  Beneath him, Asfaloth shifted his weight.  Like his master, the blood of lords ran in his veins.  Now he stood tall, his neck arched proudly, his head held up and slightly turned to the side as he studied the opposition with liquid black eyes.  A smoky gray mane fell loosely over his neck and a long tail of the same color swept behind him.

            Sensing this shift of power from them to the Elf, the Nazgul compensated smoothly.  They sat straighter in their saddles, but withdrew into the shadows of their cloaks.  They reined in their horses, who quieted and stood like statues, heads raised, almost mimicking the Elf's stallion.

            Glorfindel slashed his sword in a blinding circle around him that would have beheaded the Nine had they been alive. "Flee from here, foul creatures!"

            As he raised his sword again, the Nine whirled as one and ran, building a thundering storm of hoof beats on the earth.  The last one to leave the circle whipped past Glorfindel with a parting shot. 

            "There will come a day when you will fall."

            "Maybe, but not before you are defeated." Glorfindel replied.

            And then they were gone, like nightmares into the recesses of the mind.  Dark shadows moving swiftly across the land, foreboding, but retreating for now.  Glorfindel sheathed his sword, and the glow around him faded.  Asfaloth snorted and Glorfindel turned his head in the direction of Rivendell, uttering the phrase that would save a Ringbearer's life days later.  Only now it was spoken softly, and without urgency as it would be for Frodo.

            "Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim."                   

Author's Endnote: A translation for those who don't know what Glorfindel just said: Noro lim is the equivalent of Ride on.  If I'm wrong, go ahead and correct me.


	2. Skirmish With the Enemy

Author's Note: I decided not to make this a new fic, because I didn't want to say who POV it is from.  Take a guess!  The answer will be revealed in Chapter 3…on June 6th or 7th…probably 6th.

I could hear them, closer and closer they came.  And, then they were upon me, screeching their war-cries.  I replied with my own defiant cry, and whirled to defend myself.  Their many daggers bit into me, drawing blood, and I fled.  Instantly I was ashamed of myself.

            I am a lord of my kind, and I run from a scratch of the enemy, I snorted at my own cowardice.  I will not run from this battle! I told myself, I will not allow myself to run!  I turned once more to face the horde as it charged towards me.  If I must die, then at least I will die bravely, facing my doom rather than fleeing from it.

            I slashed forward with my own weapons, cutting the air.  One of the enemy howled with triumph and leaped forward, thinking that because I didn't strike one of them I was weak.  His mistake.

            Both were solid hits to his chest.  I could hear the bones snapping as I hit him and he fell short of me, crying his pain to his comrades.  They ignored him, practically frothing at the mouth, so eager were they to destroy me.  I could see me reflected in their narrowed eyes, proud and strong, but still weak to them.  I had felled but one of them, they were thinking, how many could I destroy before they killed me?

            The truth was that their sheer numbers would bring me down before I could cripple all of them.  They knew this as well as I.  I shook my head, clearing such despairing thoughts from my brain.  One would think I had already given up if they were to see such thoughts.  I stood my ground as they approached, eyeing the one attempting to sneak up on my side. 

            He thinks I am weak, I thought, I will prove him wrong!  I whirled, quicker than they thought possible and then the sneak-attack was foiled, the would-be-attacker letting loose a scream as I cracked his skull.  He fell and the others looked at each other, aware now that I was strong.  They hesitated for a second, but then the largest one, the one with the sharpest blades snarled an order to attack me and they lunged as one.

            I pushed forward, throwing my body at one of the attackers, my strong shoulder shoving him aside and onto one of his comrades.  One attack missed me, sharp points flashing by my side as I lunged straight into another of the enemy, crushing him to the ground.

            Then the largest one surged forward and his knives sank deep into my shoulder.  I screamed in pain and anger and stumbled, thrown off-balance by the sudden searing pain shooting through me.  Still the blades cling to me, somehow the enemy is able to keep a hold of me.  He pulled at me then, either trying to work his weapons free or trying to drag me down.  I twisted away, breaking his weapons' hold on me and responded with my own savage attack.  I missed as he dodged and tried to stab me again.  This time I was ready and a quick but strong plunge forward with my own weapons and he was the one who fell, his ribs cracked and blood seeping out to drop to the dusty ground.

            His followers were enraged now.  They regrouped around their leader, who still urged them forward.  He is a brave warrior, one that has fought many battles and won them, but he is still my enemy and I will show him no mercy, I thought.

            I barreled through the enemy's ranks, striking them down as I went, headed straight for the leader.  He staggered upright, snarling a warning to me, daring me to attack him.  I glared at him, and aimed for his skull.  I was about to end his life when I felt a sharp pain in my back.  One of his followers stabbed me.  My own concentration shaken, but not gone, I attacked the leader.  A cloud of dust rose around him as I struck him and I ignored the pain in my back to watch the dust settle.

            When it did, the leader lay in the dirt, his angry eyes dull and dead, his skull crushed.  Blood trickled from his head, running in crooked paths on the earth.  His followers cried out in dismay and then turned to me, wanting vengeance.  

            I challenged them this time, my temper boiling.  I was a lord, and I would not fall to them.  They would never destroy me, and though they have tried many times, they still have not destroyed me and I am stronger than ever before…

Author's Note: Guess the POV.  I don't think its too hard to figure out, but it's not some obscure character like… Farmer Maggot, for instance.  


	3. A Partnership Forms

Okay…Chapter Three.  I realized I left a little too much space at the bottom of the last chapter…oops.  Also, I may have forgotten to mention that Chapter 2 has nothing to do with Chapter 1, story-wise.  Hope I didn't give anyone that impression.  This chapter is a continuation of chapter 2 and 'gives away' the identity of the POV in Chapter 2.

Kazaera: Yes, I have read The Silmarillion (most of it, anyway)…and no, this is not the Silmarillion Glorfindel, but maybe I'll do a fic about him later

            They were back, barely a week later, still seeking my death.  Faint lines still marked their earlier attacks on me, but I had recovered more than they knew.  They still believed me to be injured.  I almost wanted to laugh at their ignorance.  A lord may be injured, but never is he weak.  They approached with a mixture of apprehension and anger, baring their teeth at me and letting the faint moonlight glint off their blades.  Night was their element, not mine, but I still shone it in, as a star shines in the midnight sky.

            They had a new leader, not a large as the first, but with the same hulking aura of command.  He glared at me, narrow yellow eyes studying my fearless stance.  I had beaten them once before; I could do it again.  His followers were almost grinning at me it seemed, and too late, I sensed a trap.

            A figure fell from the trees behind me, ripping and tearing at my back, drawing blood and slashing through flesh.  I screamed as he pulled me backwards, dragging to the dark earth.  The others followed him, pushing forward, surging over me like a wave of darkness.  I lashed out, beating some of them away from me, but not enough of them fell to intimidate them.

            As blood started to cloud my vision, I cursed my over-confidence.  I should have known they would have tried to sneak up on me.  How could I have not thought that the skulking enemy would think of such a plan?  My light – the star that was me – was fading, covered by night's shroud.

            But then, another star broke through the night, a blaze of white and silver, slashing with a blade of cold steel, sending the enemy reeling.  I staggered to my feet, finding a hole in their masses.  The star was an Elf, his robes of silver glowing white in the darkness.  More a Lord than I, he moved with an ease that a tiger might envy.  The enemy fled, yelping and barking, their ears pinned flat to their heads, tails streaming behind them.

            The light faded to a dull glow, and the Elf-lord sheathed his sword.  I staggered forward to give him my thanks, but I stumbled and almost fell.  I closed my eyes.  The lord had come, but too late to help me.  

            I felt a cool hand gently lift my head and I opened my eyes in surprise.  The lord was watching me, his eyes patient.  I saw me reflected in his eyes, weary and bloodied.  I was tempted to lift my head away from his hand, refuse the help he was offering and die with my pride intact.  But I decided my life was more important than my pride.  He was a lord himself, surely he would understand.

            I let the Elf-lord lead me away from the wilderness that night, one hand guiding me along a barely-discernable forest path.  He became my companion, as I became his.  Two lords, together, a powerful force that the wolves that night did not reckon with.  We have faced the terrors of Middle-earth together, from the Orcs and goblins to the powerful Nazgul that haunt the Ringbearer's steps.  

Glorfindel the Elf-lord named me Asfaloth that night and he cared for my wounds himself.  I left my own kind when he gave me a name, and became an Elf-horse, living with the Elves in their peaceful realms.  And to this day, I wait for when he gives the command to run.  And then we fly over the land, a horse and an Elf, two beacons in the shadows.

So…in case you didn't get that…the story is told from the point of view of Asfaloth.  Also, if I write more Glorfindel stories, would you (the readers) prefer if I just added them to this fic or made them separate?  Please tell me if you have a preference.


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